


Heart of Stone

by lathalea



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Alternate Middle Earth Geography, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Alternate Universe - Steampunk, F/M, Fairy Tale Style, Interactive, Pirate Thorin Oakenshield, Pirates, Reader-Interactive, Romance, swashbuckling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:34:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26062777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lathalea/pseuds/lathalea
Summary: A bloodthirsty lord has imprisoned you on his desolate island, but there may still be hope for you. One summer evening, the most dashing corsair of the Seven Seas of Arda, Captain Thorin ofThe Willing Heart, makes his appearance. How is this story going to end? You tell me.An interactive story where you get to make the decisions. Let’s have some fun! :)
Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield/Original Female Character(s), Thorin Oakenshield/Reader, Thorin Oakenshield/You
Comments: 61
Kudos: 62





	1. The Stone

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to my new story! Or, I should probably say "OUR story" since you're going to be the one to tell me where to go with it.
> 
> Oh, and forgive me for any errors you might encounter, English is not my native language, so the fault is all mine.
> 
> Have you found a nice and cozy corner to sit at and embark on your newest adventure? Perfect, let's go! :)

You have always wanted to marry for love. Since you were a little girl, you have been dreaming about meeting a Dwarf of a noble heart who would make your heart beat faster. Year after year passed, but he never appeared in your life. There were suitors, some of them admired your talents, some were captivated by your beauty, and others came with generous marriage contracts. None of them could cause your heart to quicken, none of them could fill it with that special kind of joy. 

And so you decided to pour your heart into work. “The Silver Sorceress”, that is what they call you, near and far. Your talent for silversmithing is admired among both Dwarves and Elves alike. They say that you were blessed by the Valar. They say that your creations and intricate designs are worthy of kings. They whisper other things behind your back, but you are always too busy making a new crown for the Elven King of Greenwood or a pair of wedding rings for the ruling couple of the Ered Luin Islands to admit that some of these words sting. 

Little did you know that your greatest passion would one day become your doom. You are standing in front of a large mirror with a golden frame in the middle of your new, ostentatiously decorated chambers. They are not to your liking, just like the rest of this cold, uninviting fortress that reigns over the barren land that used to be fruitful and green once. Your new home. Your prison. Tomorrow at noon, you are going to be wed to the current lord of this island, a greedy and cruel ruler whose name strikes fear into the hearts of his subjects and enemies. A trail of tears follows in his wake, wherever he goes. Lord Smaug could be your grandfather, but his age does not arouse any respect in you. Especially not after he threatened you and forced you into this marriage. Not after he destroyed almost everything you loved. 

Smaug surrounds himself with wealth, beauty, and everything unique. His thirst for riches is legendary. Recently, he decided that you would be the newest addition to his collection. He wished for a young wife who would bring him even more wealth and fame, and there you were. Painfully aware of his reputation, you politely rejected all of his civilized courting attempts. After the last one, he lost his patience and did what he does best – used force and took you away from your home against your will, leaving scorched earth and despair behind. 

You still remember how you spat in Lord Smaug’s face saying, “Your touch disgusts me, snake. I’ll never be an obedient wife to you! I’ll never love you!”  
Lord Smaug’s words ring in your ears once more, you recall that reptilian smile on his thin lips, “Indeed, the rumors are true. Silver melts under your fingers, but your heart is hard as stone. No matter. I’m only interested in your face to be admired by my guests, your hands to create glamorous works and your womb to give me an heir. You can keep the cold stone in your chest for yourself.”

Your reflection in the mirror smiles sadly at you, but that does not bring you solace. Your hand wanders towards your neck, touching the exquisite necklace hanging around it. How ironic. This was the first and only commission you made for Lord Smaug when he visited you for the first time, before his fateful courtship began. You named it mockingly “The Heart of Stone”. Your greatest work that made him want you. Your curse. A large, heart-shaped iridescent gemstone surrounded by diamonds set in silver. The largest and most beautiful jewel the world has ever seen. They said that the Dwarven miners had found this priceless stone in the darkest depths of a dead volcano far away in the eastern lands hundreds of years ago. They called it the Heart of the Mountain. Now, it is Lord Smaug’s most prized possession. He admitted generously that you held the second place in his collection. And you are to wear this necklace at your wedding. Tomorrow. 

The evening wind brings a cooling breeze from the sea. The breathtaking gemstone glimmers in the candlelight. The mirror reflects not only its glow but also the tears that shine in your eyes. You quickly wipe them off. You will never show any signs of weakness to Smaug, you promise yourself.

“So it is true what they say about the Silver Sorceress, her beauty is unmatched and diamonds truly shine in her eyes,” a low, velvet voice sounds behind you.

You turn around with a gasp only to see a tall and broad-shouldered silhouette of a Dwarf against the backdrop of a moonlit terrace. Something is not right. He most definitely isn’t a member of Smaug’s guard, wearing a loose short-sleeved tunic and leather trousers. His long, dark hair falls on his shoulders in waves and there are braids among them, and silver beads. You can barely make out the details of his face except for his dark beard, but his white teeth shine as his smiles at you. And what a charming smile he has.

“Who are you? How did you get here?” you demand answers, seeing a longsword by his side and taking a step back. Does his weapon really have an Elven grip and pommel or was it just a trick of candlelight?

“Allow me to introduce myself,” he makes a surprisingly well-rehearsed bow and quickly closes the distance between you, “Captain Thorin of _The Willing Heart_ , your humble servant.” There is a little glint in his eyes and before you can protest, he takes your hand into his and presses an ardent kiss against your knuckles. His fingers are warm, but his mouth is surprisingly soft. His beard prickles against your skin and you are surprised to discover that it feels quite… pleasant. Something flutters in your chest.

You hesitate a few moments before you pull out your hand from his hold. Only then the meaning of his words reaches you fully. The famous Captain Thorin. The most daring privateer of the Seven Seas of Arda. This explains the Elven sword, it has to be the legendary Orcrist, the bane of the Sea Orcs. Now, when you can clearly see his face weathered by sun, wind and sea, his noble features, the proud line of his nose, you have to admit to yourself that he is more handsome than the stories say. And then, there is his lush beard with his soft, sensual lips that have burned against the skin of your hand just a few moments ago and you can’t stop wondering how they would feel on yours. _What?!_ You have barely met! This sea rover comes out of nowhere, breaks into your private chambers (or rather, your private prison cell, to be exact), and you are thinking about kissing him?!

“What is a pirate doing here, on Erebor?” you demand, taking another cautious step back. It is clear that his physical closeness influences you in some puzzling way. You probably should call the guards. Probably. Lord Smaug would be beside himself with joy if he were to catch the notorious captain responsible for the loss of quite a few of his galleons filled with gold.

“A corsair, my lady. I have my honor,” he bows once again, and once again closes the distance between you. He is towering over you and you can feel the masculine heat radiating from him. The smell of exotic spices and juniper surrounds you. You raise your gaze to his face and drown in the twin sapphire pools of his enticing eyes. _Mahal, help me_ , you silently pray to the Lord of the Sea. There is a strange fluttering in your stomach now.

“I would like to apologize for my untimely visit, but it will not take long. I came to relieve you of a meaningless trinket,” his gaze scorches its way down your face, hangs at your lips for a blink of an eye, sweeps along your neck, and then finally rests indecently low above the neckline of your gown. You instinctively cover the bare skin of your decollete with your hand and feel the cold gemstones under your touch. How could you forget about the necklace? And why is your heart beating so rapidly?

“How dare you come into my rooms in the middle of the night, attempting a robbery?” you should definitely raise your voice to alert the lord’s guards. But somehow… you don’t. He raises his eyebrow instead. Is that amusement you see in his eyes? Who does he think he is, the arrogant Dwarf?!

“Forgive me, my fair lady, I did not expect to see you awake. I assumed that you would retire early before the blessed day of your wedding,” he explains and you try not to snort. _Blessed? Only by Morgoth, if by anyone at all_ , you add sarcastically in your thoughts.

“It seems that sleep evades me tonight,” you reply lightly, trying not to think about how horrible the next night, your wedding night, is going to be. This is the last night of your freedom.

“I’m deeply sorry to hear it, my lady. Perhaps it is the unpleasant weight of this necklace against your delicate skin that keeps you awake? I’m sure that if you were to remove it from your lovely neck and grant it to me for, shall we say, safekeeping,” he flashes his teeth in a jaunty smile, “the sleep would return to you at once. I promise not to inconvenience you any further.”

“Out of the question,” you fold your arms across your chest. “I’m quite fond of it, you see.” You are not. This ill-fated gemstone brought you nothing more than pain and loss, but there is your chance to finally make good use of it.

“I’m sure your future husband will be generous enough to replace this insignificant stone with other jewels equally worthy of his alluring wife,” he speaks while you shiver in disgust at the reminder that tomorrow Lord Smaug will bind you to him for the rest of your life. Unless...

“I will not give it away… not for free, at least,” if life taught you anything, it is that you know how to drive a bargain.

“I see… And will my lady name her price?” he murmurs in that silky smooth voice of his. He is so close to you now, you can see his impressive chest rising and falling, but he doesn’t move any closer, his eyes patiently observing your reactions. You notice that it has suddenly gotten very hot in your chambers. 

You take a deep breath. “I need a brave captain with a fast ship who is willing to sneak me out of this palace tonight and transport me to the Ered Luin Islands, safe and sound.” The archipelago in the north is the best choice. You have distant relatives there and the fleet of the islands is strong enough to withstand Smaug’s potential but highly probable attack.

A shadow of surprise passes through his handsome face, but he doesn’t lose his resolve. “Luckily, I know of a captain who matches your description perfectly,” he grins widely and you have no doubt about whom he speaks. “But you must know that he requires an advance for his services,” Thorin’s voice is like wild honey, sweet, dark and thick with temptation.

“What sort of advance does he demand?” you frown, trying to ignore his wavy hair brushing against your cheek as he leans closer. It smells of sea salt. And freedom.

And there it is again, that dashing smile of his, and a seductive murmur. “A kiss from the Silver Sorceress.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The most important question is: what are you going to do about his proposal?
> 
> Leave a comment and let me know your mind. It doesn't matter how long it is, it can just be one word - as long as I know the direction you'd like to go from here. I'll make a choice based on how often a choice appears in your comments or how funny/inventive/cute/clever (and so on) it is and then I'll write the next chapter according to it. Can't wait to see what's on your minds :)
> 
> Comments and kudos are, as always, more than welcome, this way you're letting me know that you want to read more of this story! :)


	2. The Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Thank you for your wonderful comments, I really enjoyed reading them.  
> You wished for a kiss and here it is! Have fun reading the new chapter :)

You stifle a sigh. A kiss, he said. Just one innocent kiss, his enticing lips brushing against yours. There is so much more than his lips though. You can see a scar that divides his eyebrow in half, his thick, dark eyelashes, his long, patrician nose, and his noble features. And if this was not enough, his eyes seem to glow at you, making your heart beat even faster than before. This is the face of a passionate man. One glance at him tells you that if this kiss happens, it is not going to be innocent at all.

“What a preposterous idea, Captain Thorin! You have no shame!” you protest. You are a proper lady, after all. Besides, there is a bargain to seal on your terms.

“No, I do not,” he murmurs huskily and lowers his face towards yours, sending a thrill through your body.

“Is it your habit to acquire such an advance from every lady you visit before you steal their most precious treasures?” you look at him intently, trying to calm your senses.

“You wound me deeply, my lady,” he speaks while his lips travel towards yours. His nose brushes against yours as he slowly tilts his head. You can already feel the heat of his mouth, so impossibly close to yours. “I am a corsair, not a--”

“Captain Thorin! Captain Thorin!” a voice rings from the direction of the servant’s door, making you stiffen in the dashing corsair’s arms.  _ In his arms?  _ How? When did it happen? Were you that focused on his lips that you haven’t noticed his embrace?

The captain lets you go, takes a step back, and snaps at the newcomer, “Midshipman Baggins? Have you found it?”

“Aye, aye, captain!, I have it here! All of it! The layout of all the fortifications, the armaments, the plans of the fortress… and some other maps of the island, too!”, a young hobbit with a thatch of honey-brown hair taps a bag hanging across his chest. He is panting, a clear sign that he ran all the way to your chambers. “I even managed to create a small diversion...” his voice trails off and his eyes widen when he sees you.

“So Tharkûn was right, after all. You are quite a burglar, Midshipman!” Captain Thorin nods approvingly, eliciting a bright smile from the hobbit. 

“Plans? What do you need the plans for?” you ask.

“The island of Erebor used to belong to my people, my lady. And I intend to reclaim it,” he explains, steel ringing in his voice. “And now, let us leave this place,” he adds, not waiting for your reply, and points at the terrace he came from only moments ago.

As Midshipman Baggins disappears on the terrace, Captain Thorin’s stormy eyes rest on you.

“I’m going with you. I won’t stay with this monster,” you insist through gritted teeth, your fists clenched. “And I will gladly share Smaug’s secrets with you.” The handsome corsair raises one of his brows.

“Then allow me to escort you out of this forsaken place, my lady,” he reaches out his hand and you put your palm in his. His skin is very warm and coarse; this is how it feels to touch a strong hand of a sailor, hardened by endless hours of ropework, climbing masts, and fencing. And then you feel that curious fluttering in your chest again.

At this very moment, an alarm bell starts ringing in the courtyard.

The corsair mutters a curse under his breath. “Follow me,” he says and soon you find yourself on the terrace, your hand in Thorin’s hand.  _ Captain Thorin _ , you correct yourself, you are complete strangers, after all. Well, almost. His touch feels somehow pleasantly familiar.

Midshipman Baggins checks the knots on the rope hanging from the balustrade. You try not to gulp audibly. Your chambers are located at the top of a tower. Your gilded cage. It is a perfect place for a prison, but it also means that this will be a long ride down. 

“It’s ready, captain,” the hobbit says and he glances both at you and the opulent necklace around your neck. The jewels glitter coldly in the starlight. “And… and the lady…?” he stammers hesitantly.

“The lady is joining us,” the corsair replies. And then angry shouts and footsteps are heard somewhere inside the fortress. The guards! Without thinking, you squeeze Thorin’s hand a bit tighter and then you feel his thumb stroking the back of your palm soothingly. Your skin burns under his touch and at that very moment, the only thing you want to do is…  _ Not now. Not here.  _ You snap out of the haze that fills your mind. The guards will be here before long. You have to escape from Smaug’s clutches. Only on board of  _ The Willing Heart _ you will be safe.

“You go first, midshipman,” the captain orders. The nimble hobbit takes the rope in his gloved hands and disappears down the tower.

“Can you run in this dress?” Thorin asks, letting go of your hand and putting on thick leather gloves.

You look at the simple evening gown that flows down your body in a silky wave.

“Yes, I can,” you nod, thinking about the distance between Smaug’s fortress and the nearest port, hoping that your strength will not falter before you reach the destination.

“Good,” he says, looking down the tower at the courtyard below. You follow his gaze and see that the hobbit has just safely landed on the black cobblestones, freeing himself of the rope.

“It is time, lady Sorceress,” in one swift move, the corsair moves towards you and wraps one of his strong arms around you, pulling your body flush against his. A small yelp escapes your mouth. You feel the heat radiating from him, the muscles playing under his clothes, and you are glad that he holds you so firmly because your legs are about to give way underneath you.

“Forgive me, my lady, but we are rather in a hurry. Hold on to me now,” he instructs you and takes the rope in his free hand. You stand on your tiptoes, wrap your arms around his well-built neck, the exposed skin of your arms brushes against the sable mane of his hair. A spark ignites in his sapphire eyes.

“Ready?” he murmurs hoarsely.

And then you kiss him. Thorin’s lips are invitingly warm and pleasantly gentle. He tastes like exotic spices and malt beer when he joins in the sensual dance of your joined lips. His whiskers prickle against your skin as he pulls you even closer against his broad chest.  _ Oh, Mahal, what a heavenly sensation this is.  _ The fluttering sensation spreads throughout your body, all the way to the tips of your fingers entangled in his hair.

“This was for good luck,” you whisper after a few endless heartbeats. “We will discuss the advance you mentioned before on board of your ship, captain.”

“You drive a hard bargain, my lady,” you can feel his voice rumbling in his chest as the corner of his lips curls up in a mischievous smile. Just then, noises fill the courtyard below and you know there is no time to lose.

Moments later, you whoosh down the tower, clinging to the most daring man you have ever kissed, wind singing in your ears. His clothes smell of sea salt and juniper. Of hope. Thorin steadies you as your feet rest on the hard cobblestones of the courtyard. You are standing in a narrow passage between the tower and the wall of the fortress.

“Quick, Captain, they are almost upon us!” the hobbit’s nose twitches nervously as he points at a large group of Smaug’s guards running towards you with spears and swords in their hands. There are too many of them for the three of you.

“Midshipman Baggins, you will take the lady with you and lead her safely to  _ The Willing Heart _ ,” Captain Thorin orders, unsheathing his magnificent sword.

“What about you, captain?” the hobbit asks.

“I will slow them down,” the corsair turns his back towards you, facing the approaching enemy, his wavy hair whipping around him and falling on his wide back.

“No! Come with us!” you protest although you are aware that Smaug’s guards, the Sea Orcs, his foul minions will catch up with you in mere moments if someone doesn’t stop them. You can already see their faces contorted in horrifying grimaces. 

The captain of  _ The Willing Heart _ shakes his head, but you can't see his face. “Midshipman Baggins, I gave you an order!” he growls, not turning back towards you. The faint moonlight dances on the elegant curves of the Orcrist, the blade imbued with a thirst for orc blood.

“Follow me, my lady,” Midshipman Baggins insists. 

The hobbit pulls the sleeve of your gown and you start following him reluctantly towards the opposite side of the courtyard. The solid wall that surrounds it seems to reach the sky. In the moonlight, you can see the narrow metal steps sticking out of the grey stone, reaching all the way to the top of the wall. You know what lies beyond it - your freedom.

The sounds of clinking of metal against metal punctuated by battle cries reach you as the fight behind you rages on. You glance over your shoulder only to see Captain Thorin’s graceful yet efficient movements as his deadly blade reaches his opponents. Their limp bodies fall to the ground one by one, but he is slowly retreating out of the passage, parrying the orcs’ attacks. Soon, all of the guards will overwhelm him. 

You whip your head forward as you hear an ear-splitting roar. Your stomach clenches. A burly Sea Orc with a pig-like nose stands in front of you with a large trident in his meaty paws. You freeze for a blink of an eye, realizing that your hands are empty. Luckily, the hobbit moves swiftly before you have a chance to act. He charges at the orc with his little sword that gives off a faint blue glow in the darkness. The orc bares his blackened teeth and thrusts his weapon at him, but the midshipman is much faster. He ducks and rolls over the ground, finding himself behind the orc. Ribbons of blue light unfurl in the air as the hobbit swings his sword, cutting his opponent’s legs in the back of his knees. When the Sea Orc falls to the ground face down with an enraged howl, the brave young sailor buries his blade in his neck. The trident falls out of the orc’s unmoving paws.

“Take this, you filth,” Midshipman Baggins shouts triumphantly and kicks the carcass with his hairy foot.

A groan cuts through the air behind you and you recognize the voice at once. You turn back and see Thorin fending off the orcs, but his clothes are covered with dark stains, his movements are slower and it appears that he moved his sword to his left hand. His right arm hangs limply down his side and there’s an arrow sticking out of his shoulder. He wavers as he blocks an attack at the last possible moment. You cast a quick look around and notice an archer at the top of the wall above Thorin. The orc shoots again and misses, the arrow falls on the ground behind the corsair.

“Let us go, my lady,” you hear the hobbit’s strained voice. “There is no time!” He looks expectantly at you and his nose twitches nervously again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tharkûn - (Khuzdul) Gandalf
> 
> I’m really curious what you’d like to do now! 
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment and let me know. It doesn't matter how long it is, it can just be one word or two - as long as I know the direction you'd like to go from here. I'll make a choice based on how often a choice appears in your comments or how funny/inventive/cute/clever (and so on) it is and then I'll write the next chapter according to it. Can't wait to see what's on your minds :)
> 
> Comments and kudos are, as always, more than welcome, this way you're letting me know that you want to read more of this story! :)


	3. The Leap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahoy there, mates!  
> Thank you for all of your wonderful comments! *blushes*  
> I was supposed to update this story next week, but thanks to your encouragement, I managed to write a new chapter today :)  
> Are you ready for the leap?

You are standing in the courtyard, mere meters from the external wall of the fortress, the only obstacle on your way to freedom. Midshipman Baggins beckons you towards him, ready to climb onto the metal steps that lead to the top of the wall, but your eyes return to the wounded Captain Thorin as he fights the seemingly countless Sea Orc guards. You hesitate and look down at the trident that had fallen out of the dead orc’s paws.

“We can’t stay any longer, my lady, the Captain--” the hobbit starts, but his words drown in a cacophony of shouts that comes from above. 

An arrow hits the cobblestones, narrowly missing Thorin. The Orc archer shouts something unintelligible.

Three figures appear on the top of the wall above you, but it’s too dark to make out their faces. _More orcs?!_ Before you can take a deep breath, they find themselves quickly on the courtyard in front of you.

“Where’s that bampot of our capt’n?” the tallest one hovers over the tiny Midshipman Baggins who clearly tries to shrink and maybe even disappear. In the light of the torches, you realize that these three newcomers are Dwarves as well.

“T-there!” the hobbit manages to squeak out and points towards the corsair. 

“I swear to Mahal, I’ll kill him!” the largest one, the one with a tattooed head, exclaims, taking two battle axes in his hands. He runs towards Thorin with a roar, not looking back. The fierce warrior seems even taller than the captain. You gasp.

“Do not be alarmed, my lady, he is simply a tad concerned,” one of the two other Dwarves, the blond-haired one, grins at you widely, flashing his teeth at you in a way that makes you think of the dashing corsair again. He bows his head slightly to you and follows the tattooed one, unsheathing his twin cutlasses on the way.

“Bilbo, will you manage?” the third Dwarf speaks, the youngest one, who doesn’t even sport a proper beard yet, but his hair is almost as dark as the Captain’s.

“I’m-- Well, yes, of course, Kili,” the hobbit’s nose twitches.

“Watch out! An archer!” you shout, hearing the twang of a bowstring. Another arrow flies from above, narrowly missing the running dwarven warriors.

Kili’s reflexes are lightning-fast. He takes an arrow out of his quiver and in a blink of an eye, his bow sings, sending the deadly projectile straight to the target. A groan and the sound of an armored body hitting the stones of the courtyard tell you everything you’d like to know of his skill.

You glance at the narrow passage where the battle takes place, seeing how four Dwarves wreak havoc among the foul Sea Orcs. You can’t help but notice that the tattooed warrior has put himself between his wounded captain and the enemy, purposefully attracting the most powerful attacks. Relieved, you notice that he is not carrying out his earlier threat towards his captain. 

“Will you be joining us on board of _The Willing Heart_ , my lady?” the dwarven archer asks, his dark eyes flickering with amusement or perhaps with the moonlight reflected from the jewels hanging heavily around your neck. 

“As soon as I escape from this place,” you reply, eyeing the impenetrable wall towering over you.

The young dwarf, Kili, nods with a smile. “I will cover you then,” he urges you, sending another well-aimed arrow at the orcs.

This time, you don’t hesitate any longer. Together with Midshipman Baggins, you quickly climb the narrow steps and find yourself at the top of the wall. The evening breeze brushes against your cheeks like a lover’s touch, oblivious of the life and death struggle raging within the fortress. You can see the road cutting across the desolate plain ahead and the lights of the port in the distance. Quite a significant distance, you have to admit, starting to doubt your endurance. The sea surrounding the island doesn’t offer any help, waiting patiently and shimmering with reflected starlight, as if someone cast a handful of diamonds on a black velvet surface.

“This way, my lady,” the hobbit leads you to a rope ladder inconspicuously hanging along a vertical ledge on the other side of the wall. You swallow, seeing how high you are right now. It will be a long way down, but there is no other way to escape.

The climb down the swaying rope ladder is a strain and seems to take forever. Luckily, you manage not to look down, at least not too often. When you finally reach the ground, your legs are wobbly and you have to sit down to rest. Wondering how the corsair captain is doing, along with his companions, of course, you’re certainly not thinking only about him, and certainly not worrying excessively about his wound and the growing dark stain on his tunic you saw, you barely notice when Midshipman Baggins joins you.

You are standing at the top of the rocky hill on which Smaug’s dreaded fortress stands. Your prison is behind you, the road to freedom ahead. Your heart starts beating faster in anticipation.

“Where to now, Midshipman? Is your ship waiting for us at the port?” you ask.

The hobbit shakes his head, “Please follow me, my lady. This way.”

You follow him quickly along a steep and narrow path towards the east, your soft slippers not offering you any protection from the uneven surface and sharp rock edges along the way. From time to time you steal a glance back, towards the menacing walls of the fortress, but there is no sign of the dark red tunic, of the dark waves of his hair, of his sapphire eyes, of him. _Of them_ , you correct yourself. There are four Dwarves in that fortress, fighting for their lives against a swarm of filthy Sea Orcs while you’re dreaming of his wide shoulders and narrow hips instead of focusing on the perilous path ahead. Clearly, the strain of the situation is getting to you. Yes, it has to be it.

Finally, you reach the foot of the hill and walking becomes slightly easier although your legs wobble even more than before. The hobbit, however, doesn’t seem to be tired at all as he leads you through the darkness, across a blackthorn thicket. The thorny branches are mercilessly catching at your fine gown and scraping your skin. The torment seems to take forever.

“We’re almost there, my lady,” Midshipman Baggins smiles widely at you, stopping at the edge of a very white and very tall cliff, his voice drowned out by the waves splashing against the rocks below. You can almost taste the sea salt in the air.

You look over the edge of the cliff and there it is. A solid dark shape against a backdrop of the shimmering sea. A three-masted frigate slowly sways on the waves below, its sails reefed. The legendary _Willing Heart!_ Your freedom.

“I’ve never seen a more beautiful ship in my entire life,” you exclaim, your heart filling with hope. You are so very close to escaping Lord Smaug’s slimy clutches.

“I am honored to hear it, Lady Sorceress,” a low voice rumbles behind you. Quickly, you turn around only to see Captain Thorin emerging from between the blackthorn bushes along with his companions. Your heart makes a small leap. It is hard to see in the darkness, but it seems that they are mostly unharmed, except for the captain and his arrow wound. A broken shaft sticks out from his right shoulder. The tunic around it seems to be darker than before.

“Your wound!” you take a few steps towards him, but the corsair stops you.

“There will be time for it later, my lady. Let us reach _The Heart_ first,” he decides, turning to his crewmen. “Midshipmen Fili, Kili, and Master Baggins will go first.”

“Aye, aye, Captain!” the three midshipmen reply simultaneously.

“Dwalin, how far behind are they?” Captain Thorin turns to the tattooed warrior who stands several steps behind, still among the thorny bushes.

“Too close. We’ll have to ditch the ropes,” Dwalin says, looking towards the direction you all came from. Unsettling noises reach your ears, shouts, grunts, clanking metal, heavy thumping. You know what that means. The Sea Orcs are following you!

“The quick way, then,” the captain of _The Willing Heart_ decides. “May I, my lady?” he stretches out his good arm towards you with an open palm.

Hesitantly, you rest your hand upon his and he leads you to the edge of the cliff. The cool night wind dances in your hair and plays with the hem of your gown.

“The quick way?” you frown. The ominous noises behind you are growing louder.

“The fun way, my lady!” the young midshipman with a blond, braided mane, Fili, says. And then he jumps down the cliff with a triumphant shout. You stifle a surprised gasp. The other one, Kili, follows right after him. Your eyes follow their fall until the impenetrable darkness devours their silhouettes.

The tiny hobbit smiles at you. His nose twitches slightly. “It gets better with time, my lady,” and with these words, he jumps as well, holding on to his leather bag. 

“I’ll go last, Thorin. I don’t like this,” says Dwalin, the warrior, and turns his vigilant gaze beyond the blackthorn thicket.

“Are you ready, my lady?” Thorin’s eyes flicker as they rest upon you. His hand is pleasantly warm and holds you firmly. Unfortunately, instead of meeting his gaze, your treacherous mind chooses to look down once more. All the long way down. There is only darkness below, you can barely see anything else except for the white rocks of the cliff. Your legs decide to wobble even more than before.

The handsome captain waits for your response. You grace him with a faint smile, trying to ward off the worry that fills you. “I won’t be any more ready than I’m now, I guess,” you admit, hoping that he will not notice the trembling in your voice.

In one quick stride, he closes the distance between you, and as the smell of the sea just after the storm surrounds you, he seals your mouth with a fervent kiss. His lips press against yours, molten lava beneath his skin. His taste is that of the blackthorn fruit, tart and zesty, and there is an elusive hint of something else, but you never discover what it is, because the kiss ends as suddenly as it started.

“For courage,” he murmurs when your lips part and brushes his nose against yours.

Your fingers intertwine. You take a quick glance at the audacious corsair. A reassuring smile tugs at the corner of his bearded lips. Thorin gently squeezes your hand and doesn’t let go. Something in your chest flutters.

And then you take the leap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is going to happen next? :)
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment and let me know. It doesn't matter how long it is, it can just be one word or two - as long as I know the direction you'd like to go from here. I'll make a choice based on how often a choice appears in your comments or how funny/inventive/cute/clever (and so on) it is and then I'll write the next chapter according to it. Can't wait to see what's on your minds :)
> 
> Comments and kudos are, as always, more than welcome, this way you're letting me know that you want to read more of this story!


	4. The Ship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ARRR, ARRR!  
> First of all, I'd like to welcome all the new readers and thank you very much for your wonderful comments and kudos! 
> 
> Special thanks go to **MrsOakensheild** and your brilliant idea about incorporating some of the less-known characters into this story. One of them is mentioned in this chapter, but rest assured, there will be more!
> 
> Before we jump into the sea together with our fearless pirates however, I’d like to share a fantastic surprise with you.  
> My talented friend **estethell** was kind enough to create a fanart for my story! Woohoo! :)  
> [I give you Captain Thorin, the most dashing corsair of the Seven Seas of Arda!](https://estethell.tumblr.com/post/629528153255182336/thorin-pirata-au-from-the-beautiful-fanfiction-of) Check it out!  
> And if you have a moment, [please check out her stories on AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Estethell/) as well :)  
> Thanks, estethell, you’re the best ^_^

You are falling into darkness.

Cool air swishes around you for what feels like an eternity. You feel oddly weightless as if you were drifting out of this world, but the firm, reassuring grasp on your right hand anchors you, reminding you that you are not alone.

A splash. The dark velvet waters surround you, take you in, caressing your skin, closing over you, murmuring their terrifying secrets into your ears, promising you everything you can think of if you only stay within the depths of the endless ocean. You hold your breath and pause for a moment, marveling at the mysterious whispers and enchanting, sweet songs of the sea, and at something that glitters below you, but then a cold current passes under the surface, bringing you out of your reverie. The thick, velvet haze lifts from your mind and you know that you need to return to the world above the waves. With the help of your arms and legs, you slowly ascend towards the surface. And then there are hands, several strong hands catching you and pulling you up. You breathe, _finally!_ , enjoying the fresh air in your lungs, tasting the salt on your lips, feeling the prickling sensation in places where the thorns had pierced your skin up there, on the top of the white cliffs. It feels as if your escape from Lord Smaug’s claws happened an eternity ago.

Soon, you are standing on the ship’s deck, shivering slightly in the night air.

“Weigh the anchor! Shake out the reef!” Captain Thorin barks at the sailors who scramble quickly to do his bidding. He takes a look at you and something glitters in his sapphire eyes, something that makes you think of the secrets of the sea you took a glimpse at mere moments ago.

“Find a blanket for our guest,” he orders once more, this time in a softer tone of his resonant voice and soon you are wrapped in a soft fabric.

You marvel at the way the sailors swiftly climb the masts, freeing the sails as white as the seagull’s wings. With the next gust of wind, the ship starts moving slowly.

“Set course North-North-West, Mr. Nori!” orders the captain.

“Aye Aye, Sir, course North-North-West,” responds a Dwarf at the helm, grinning broadly. You take a closer look at his red hair styled in a peculiar way, resembling a starfish, and you notice a gold ring adorned with a large ruby in his left nostril.

“You will have to excuse me, my lady, but our negotiations will have to wait until we have left these waters,” Thorin turns to you once more, his lip curls up in a small smile. Countless droplets of water shine in his hair with reflected starlight, making you think of mountain crystals. “For now, I am offering you my cabin. Please take as much rest as you require. My steward will attend to your every need. You will not be disturbed.” 

“Thank you, Captain Thorin, that’s very generous of you,” you accept his offer.

“Only the best for the Silver Sorceress,” he takes your hand and brings it to his lips. They barely brush against your knuckles, but a tumultuous wave of heat travels down your spine. At the same time, a buzz of astonished whispers fills the air. A group of dwarven sailors stands on the deck, their eyes wide, curious.

“You heard me, men, let us welcome none other than the Silver Sorceress on board of _The Willing Heart_!” the crewmembers present on the deck mumble niceties and give out shouts of joy, some of them are bowing, and others wordlessly stare in awe. 

“It is a pleasure to be here,” you reply, smiling. 

Ropes hiss, the rigging creaks and there is a movement above you. Someone very nimble runs across the lowest spar of the main mast, jumps into the air, grabs a rope, and skillfully descends down onto the deck, executing a perfect forward roll just after landing. A young dwarf stands before you, takes off his emerald green headscarf, and makes a deep bow. His hair is tousled and vividly red. There are two braids in his equally red beard and you start wondering whether he is somehow related to the helmsman, Mr. Nori. The dwarf in front of you blushes immensely when your eyes rest on him. 

“Ori, at your service, my lady,” he speaks. Whistling, laughter, and a bit of applause from his comrades fill the air as he quickly joins them. 

An older, grey-haired sailor with a multitude of braids and golden beads in his elaborate coiffure pulls the young acrobat’s arm, saying, “For the love of Mahal, how many times have I…”

His words are interrupted by _The Willing Heart’s_ captain. 

“Midshipman Baggins will escort you to my quarters, my lady,” the dashing corsair says with a small bow in your direction, clearly amused with the recent spectacle. The arrow is still wedged in his shoulder and his right arm hangs limply down his body. You can only imagine how painful it must be, especially after having the wound soaked in saltwater, but his face doesn’t show any signs of suffering.

“And now, Mr. Dwalin,” the captain turns to the tattooed warrior, “you will explain your actions.”

“Ye’re such a stubborn ass, Tho---, I mean, Capt’n,” Dwalin clears his throat, noticing his captain’s deadly glower. The large warrior looks at the group of sailors gathered on the deck, some of them trying to hide their chuckles. “Bosun Gloin, give those men something to do, we’re not on a picnic, for Mahal’s sake!” he yells.

“Yessir, Master Dwalin,” a burly Dwarf with an impressive mane of red hair responds and starts barking orders. The crowd dissipates in a blink of an eye.

“Did you think it was a good idea to run after me like a bunch of reckless sea wargs?” the captain roars at Dwalin.

“It was even more reckless for ye to slip out of the ship in the middle of the night and march into that bloody fortress filled with Sea Orcs all by yourself, with only one wee hobbit!” the warrior protests.

“How about taking both Fili and Kili with you? How clever was that, Dwalin?” the corsair’s face darkens in anger.

“We forced Dwalin to take us with him!” Fili cuts in.

“That’s right!” Kili grins broadly. “Mother told us to take good care of you!”

“And If you had managed to get yourselves killed, how would I explain it to your mother?!” Thorin snaps at them, blue flames of fury blazing in his stormy eyes.

 _Their mother._ Your gaze slips from the corsair’s handsome face and moves to the two young warriors. In the faint light of the deck lanterns, you see their profiles, the way Fili sets his jaw, the way Kili frowns. The similarity is obvious. Why haven’t you noticed it sooner? They are his sons. And they have a mother. A whiff of wind chills your bones.

“Please come with me, my lady,” Midshipman Baggins appears by your side and you leave four furious males growling behind you as you follow the hobbit under the deck.

You know what honor it is to be offered the captain’s lodgings, the best cabin on the ship, and from what you suspect, the most spacious one. Its simple furnishings stand in stark contrast with the opulent luxury of Lord Smaug’s chambers. There is a large bed made of oak placed by the porthole and you can’t help but notice that it’s wide enough for two people. _He has a wife,_ this thought rings in your mind like a warning bell.

“... water and I’ll ask the cook to send you some food as well,” the hobbit bustles about, adjusting the room to a lady’s needs, puffing up the pillows and rummaging in a large chest nearby. “Ah, here they are! Fresh clothes for you,” he hands you a pile of several neatly folded pieces of clothing. Feminine garments, of course. “They belong to Lady Dis, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind helping another lady in need.”

“Thank you, Midshipman.” You try to ignore the bitter taste of disappointment in your mouth. Why would you feel disappointed anyway? It’s not like he proposed to you under false pretenses. There was just one kiss. Two silly and utterly meaningless kisses, to be exact. Something stubbornly flutters in your chest, but this time, it is accompanied by a jab of… nevermind. You refuse to think about it.

“How long have you been serving on this ship, Master Baggins?” you quickly change the topic of conversation.

“It’s been almost a year now,” he puffs up his chest. “My godfather, Sir Gandalf Grey recommended me to the captain, you see, just after I finished my schooling. Like everyone here, I started as an ordinary seaman, but in due time I’ve been given more duties. I’m the captain’s personal steward and clerk now. And they insist on making me a burglar as well!” he grins with a small glint in his eye. “Me, the son of a respectable sea merchant and a winemaker,” he chuckles.

“I know your surname sounded familiar! The famous claret of Bag End!” you recall suddenly.

“None other! They say that my father’s vineyards are the best on the Isles of Shire,” he states with pride. “But now I’ll give you some privacy. I’ll return later to see if there’s anything you need.”

He bows and disappears behind the door. You quickly wash and change into the new clothes. It turns out that Captain Thorin’s wif…, you can’t bear even to think of that word, Lady Dis, that is, well, she is taller than you and apparently wider in her shoulders as well. Other than that, the clothes fit you more or less. The fabric of the sailor’s shirt and loose linen trousers is of an exceptionally good quality. Dressed in this outfit, you peer into a small mirror that Master Baggins conjured out of nowhere for you. A grin appears on your face. If you had a red scarf to put on your head, you’d look like a proper pirate now. 

After a light meal brought to you by a cabin boy, you drown in the softness of the bed, enjoying the smell of the fresh linen, your mind too tired to think of who slept on this bed last night. The murmur of the waves and swaying of the ship’s hull lull you to sleep.

The sound of the alarm bell rapidly snatches you from your slumber. There are shouts, a hurried pitter-patter of countless heavy feet, some things are being hurled above your head and below, and that’s not all. You look through the porthole. It’s already after dawn and you can clearly see ominous shapes on the horizon, both on the water and... above. You recognize the outlines of two approaching warships, but that’s not everything. There is also a dark smudge in the sky drifting among the innocently white, fluffy cumulus clouds. _No, it can’t be!_ Ah, but it is. A wave of terror shoots through your body and you know what it means. _The Willing Heart_ is in grave danger. You have to warn the captain before it’s too late!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you found any errors in the maritime terms I used in this chapter, let me know! I’ve been researching the proper English phrases for this fic, but no one is infallible, so I hope you’ll forgive me :)
> 
> Before you ask, yes, Belladonna Baggins (née Took) in this AU is a sea merchant (she’s always had a knack for traveling and adventures, after all) and her husband Bungo is famous for his wines. They are both alive and well, thank you very much!
> 
> I’m sitting on a smoking hot idea and can’t wait to upload the new chapter, but first things first. I have three questions for you:  
> 1\. How did you like Ori's entrance into this story? Would you like to see more of him in future? Or perhaps you'd prefer someone else to appear?  
> 2\. Detailed descriptions of sea battles: yes or no?  
> 3\. Any special wishes, my dear readers, before we continue?
> 
> P. S. Remember, comments and kudos are more than welcome, this way you're letting me know that you want to read more of this story! :) Thank youuu! xxx


	5. The Battle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahoy there!  
> OK, I was supposed to upload this chapter tomorrow, but I can’t wait to hear what you will come up with next.  
> Thank you so much for all the lovely comments on this story! Your ideas inspired me a lot and I hope you’ll recognize some of them below.
> 
> A big thank you goes to [MissieMoose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissieMoose/) for helping me out with the ship’s name “Mistress of the Night”! Check out her fics when you have a spare moment :)  
> If you have seen **shrimpsthings** and her art on tumblr, you are probably familiar with her amazing dwarves-turned-animal drawings, they are absolutely adorable.  
> It turned out that she liked the story and decided to draw a fanart for Heart of Stone.  
> [Remember the first chapter when our main characters met for the first time? Here it is!](https://shrimpsthings.tumblr.com/post/629618031139700736/heart-of-stone-heart-of-stone-chapter-1-the)  
> Please check out her other art on tumblr while you’re at it :)  
> Thank you so much, **shrimpsthings** , your art is simply wonderful! <3

You run up to the main deck as fast as you can. It’s swarming with sailors busying themselves, clearly preparing for a battle, but you quickly spot their captain among them. Apparently, he doesn’t shy away from a seaman’s work. And then he notices you. His dark mane of hair is tied in a ponytail down his powerful back and as he turns to face you... _oh, my!_ His mostly bare, impressively broad chest is heaving. You can’t help but admire the sheen on his evenly tanned skin, the firmness of his pectoral muscles dusted with dark hair, the rippling tautness of his abdomen partially covered by a wide leather belt of his trousers. Dark blue tattoos adorn his masterfully sculpted body, attesting to his life on the high seas. The dressing that covers his right shoulder and runs across his chest doesn’t do much to cover his body from your widened eyes. On the contrary, it somehow amplifies the impression of raw male power. This is the body of a warrior, one who knows battle very well. _Oh, my,_ indeed.

“My lady, it is not safe here. You need to return below deck, Lord Smaug’s ships are almost upon us,” he says in a low voice. “Midshipman Baggins?”

“Captain?” the nimble hobbit appears beside you, seemingly out of nowhere.

“We need to flee as fast as we can, captain!” you interrupt before Thorin speaks.

“ _The Willing Heart_ does not flee from battle, my lady,” he growls. His countenance darkens as he rests his stormy eyes upon you.

“We might not stand a chance against Smaug’s forces!” you oppose him.

“Only two ships are after us. I have fought with worse odds,” the corsair captain glares at you.

“Three,” you correct him, feeling Midshipman Baggins’ puzzled gaze travelling between you and his captain.

“I beg your pardon?” the corsair frowns, his lips form a thin line in the thicket of his dark beard.

“Three ships are pursuing us,” you say, but he doesn’t seem to understand you. It doesn't surprise you. No one would unless they knew what to search for, and where. “May I borrow a spyglass?”

A sharp order falls from the captain’s lips and you are soon offered Bosun Gloin’s brass spyglass. This is when you notice that the bosun has an impressive metal hook instead of his left hand. You blush in embarrassment when he notices your gaze.

“A shark, m’lady,” Bosun Gloin smiles broadly, clearly used to this kind of attention. “He found me inedible,” he winks.

“But we found him very much edible!” Mr. Nori shouts from behind him.

“Aye, our cook, Mr. Bombur, makes a mean shark stew!” Bosun Gloin confirms and you can’t help but giggle.

Your good humour disappears quickly after approaching the ship’s starboard. You quickly locate the unsettling shape in the sky. You pass the instrument to Captain Thorin, pointing him in the right direction and trying to summon all your willpower at the same time in order to ignore the impossible heat of his not-quite-fully-clad body ( _oh, my!_ ) as he stands very, very close beside you.

“What is it that I am looking at?” he asks. His arm brushes against yours. A shiver ripples over your skin. You take a deep breath and somehow convince your knees not to melt under you. 

“Do you see something that looks like a dark cloud among the white ones?” you clumsily try to describe the yet unseen threat.

“I do,” Thorin replies in his deep voice, turning his face towards you, piercing you with his sapphire eyes.

“Smaug’s airship is hiding among these clouds!” you say with conviction.

“His… what?” the captain looks at you as if you have just lost your mind. 

“He has a ship that travels in the sky. It has directional sails, but it is propelled by an engine. The dark cloud we’re seeing is made of fumes that this contraption gives out!” you speak again, hoping that he will believe you.

“An airship. With an engine,” he repeats after you, raising his eyebrow.

“Think furnace with wings!” you exclaim in desperation.

Thorin’s expression is unreadable.

“A… a what now?” Midshipman Baggins’ voice wavers as he holds on to the ship's railing, his face turning paler and paler by the moment.

“Come now, laddie,” Bosun Gloin gives him a hearty slap on his back, making the hobbit wobble. “Whatever it is, at least it doesn’t have tentacles!” the copper-haired bosun and several sailors burst out in laughter at some private joke. You might be imagining this, but the poor hobbit’s countenance turns somewhat green.

“Are you sure about this, my lady?” the corsair captain’s turbulent gaze rests on you, seemingly oblivious to his surroundings, as if you were the center of his world at that very moment. It is a peculiar feeling, but one that you deem quite flattering.

“I told you that I would reveal Smaug’s secrets to you as a part of our agreement, did I not?” you ask.

“Indeed, you did. Pray, continue, my lady.”

“This airship is one of them. I never knew it could travel that far from his fortress, but apparently, it can,” you admit. Lord Smaug has made an error. In his cruelty, he was vain enough to make a spectacular demonstration. You and your close ones paid a high price for the knowledge of the airship’s abilities.

“What more do you know of it?” Thorin’s voice is even deeper than before. 

“It has tremendous firepower and carries some kind of incendiary projectiles on board, among other things. No sailing ship can resist its attack! I saw it with my own eyes,” you shiver at the painful memory that still haunts your dreams. A few gasps and whispers from the sailors who gathered around you reach your ears.

The captain nods and quickly turns towards the deck. “Mr. Dwalin, give me full speed ahead! Let us reach the rendezvous point as soon as possible.”

“Aye aye, sir!” the warrior shouts from the other side of the main deck and starts ordering the crew. “Full speed ahead!”

“Full speed ahead!” several voices repeat the order and sailors return to their work.

Captain Thorin gives you a small nod and reaches for a shirt that lies on a barrel nearby along with other pieces of his clothing. 

Lord Smaug’s warships are steadily following _The Willing Heart_ , you can already see their red sails. You observe the sky for a few moments, but then you hear an echo of a thundering rumble from afar and cast a terrified gaze at the corsair. He stops buttoning up his doublet and curses under his breath. You realize it is too late.

“Mr. Dwalin, belay that order, bring her about! I want her battle-ready in no time!” Thorin shouts.

“Aye aye, sir! Those bastards will not know what hit ‘em!” responds his officer with a fierce smile.

Cannonballs from the enemy warships wheeze through the air only to drown in the water with a series of loud, hissing splashes. None of them reaches the hull of _The Willing Heart_. You sigh in relief.

“Good,” a satisfied smirk appears on Captain Thorin’s lips. “We are not within their firing range yet. Alas, luck is not on their side today. Our firing range is greater,” he flashes his white teeth at you and there is a predatory glint in his eyes. “Mr. Bifur, fire at will. Two volleys!”

A Dwarf with a ruffled salt-and-pepper tangle of hair, a magnificent beard, and a pear-shaped nose produces a series of sounds from his whistle and disappears below the deck after receiving a short nod from his captain. 

“He doesn’t speak,” Thorin explains. “An old injury. But he is the best Master Gunner I have ever had under my command,” you can hear the pride ringing in his voice. 

The hurling noise from the gun deck reaches your ears for the second time today, followed by a series of whistles and orders shouted from several throats.

“My lady, now it is the high time for you to return--” the captain starts only to be interrupted by the cannon fire from the starboard. You cover your ears and close your eyes as the powder smoke fills the air. 

At that very moment, you hear the roar of an engine above and the hell breaks loose. Fire rains from the sky, something explodes nearby, there are howls of pain, the deck is shaking, something falls next to you with a loud thud but you can’t see a thing in the thick, black smoke that suddenly gathers around you. You can barely see the wooden planks under your bare feet. You cough and glance up. Smaug’s cursed contraption hovers above _The Willing Heart_ . Among the clouds of smoke, you can see its long hull, the red sails on its sides that remind you of wings of a monster and the angry red fire that burns in its bowels. The airship’s figurehead is a roaring dragon. This is _The Air Serpent_ , Lord Smaug’s newest deadly toy.

You realize that Captain Thorin’s frigate will be defenseless against an aerial attack. It will drown just like… A flood of vivid images fills your mind, full of fire and destruction. Full of death. You freeze in terror. A round of cannon fire interrupts your thoughts. Mr. Bifur doesn’t like to waste time, it seems. You hear another series of cannon shots, this time from the enemy ships. Something whizzes past your head. A familiar, strong arm wraps around your waist and pulls you down towards the deck.

“Stay here, my lady,” you hear Thorin’s hoarse whisper in your ear, his hot breath against your skin, and then he’s gone. You look out from behind a large barrel, but can barely see anything through the thick curtain of smoke. 

“Captain Thorin!” an unnaturally loud, booming voice fills the air. You recognize it at once. _Oh, no. Not him._ “Return both my jewel and my betrothed to me and I will let you and your crew free!” Lord Smaug demands from above. His tone makes you shiver with terror. Hiding behind the barrel, you carefully raise your head once again, but can only see the glowing eyes of the dragon figurehead, dark smoke coming from its nostrils.

“Never!” the corsair roars defiantly into the air, his hair rippling in the wind. He aims his sword at the airship above in a challenging stance. “The stone belongs to me by birthright, you thief!”

“Then your grandfather should have protected it better, along with his kingdom,” Lord Smaug responds with a burst of unpleasant laughter, his voice magnified by some other contraption of his. “Give me back what is mine and I promise you a merciful death.”

“There is nothing on this ship that belongs to you!” you stand up and shout at the fuming dragon above you, its toothy maw frozen in a predatory grimace. “I’d rather die than return to your lair, you filth!”

A moment of silence.

“As you wish, Silver Sorceress,” Smaug hisses from above. His voice makes your skin crawl as he speaks your name. “Such talent will be wasted, buried at the bottom of the sea. What a shame. But so be it.”

Your eyes meet Thorin’s impenetrable gaze for an instant and then the fire starts raining from the sky with doubled intensity. 

“Fire charges!” the captain of _The Willing Heart_ shouts a warning and his crew moves to action. Some of the charges disappear among the waves, but there are more, igniting the sails, falling on the deck, with fire trailing behind them. One of them passes you by, but you duck behind your barrel at the last possible moment. When you look out again, the captain has already disappeared somewhere among the sailors.

“Put out the fires, lads!” Bosun Gloin shouts, grabbing one of the charges with his gloved hands and throwing it overboard. You see that one of the sails is on fire now and there is a smell of smoldering wood in the air. The starboard cannons roar, there is even more smoke, more shouts, and yells.

“We hit’em good, sir!” someone reports and several sailors give out triumphant shouts. You cast a quick look above the starboard. One of Lord Smaug’s warships is damaged, its main mast broken, its red sails shattered. A moment later another cloud of smoke obscures your view.

“The bastard’s approaching on the leeward side!” you hear a shout and you hear cannon fire over the port side. It is coming from far away. These cannons don’t belong to _The Willing Heart_. 

“Brace for impact!” Captain Thorin shouts. You hide behind your barrel, covering your head. The ship’s hull shudders. The sound of breaking wood is more terrifying than you thought. There are yelps of pain. And fire. Something falls behind you, most probably on the aft deck. Someone cries for help.

Several loud thuds reverberate through the deck’s wooden planks. And you hear heavy thumping. And then metal clanks against metal. Blade against a blade.

“Enemy aboard! To arms!” you hear Captain Thorin’s shout and only then you notice several ropes dangling in the air. Several large silhouettes slide down along them to the frigate’s deck ahead of you among the thickening smoke, joining their companions, but the brave crew of _The Willing Heart_ attacks them fiercely. Among them, you see the young brothers, Fili and Kili, work side by side to get rid of the enemies as soon as possible, their weapons swiftly moving through the air. You scan the area, wondering where Thorin disappeared, but you can’t see him anywhere.

Instead, you notice Master Dwalin fighting three Orcs at once, his twin axes cutting mercilessly through the air and flesh alike. He stands back to back with another Dwarf with a two-pronged white beard. His companion wears a burgundy tunic and fights with a flat-bladed mace. Even though he is noticeably older than Mr. Dwalin, he moves like an experienced warrior in his prime. The way their attacks complement each other tells you that this is most definitely not their first fight together.

“Now!” someone shouts from above and you recognize his voice at once. You yank your head up and see Captain Thorin balancing on the highest spar of the main mast together with two sailors, all of them cutting the ropes hanging from Lord Smaug’s ship. You squint your eyes and recognize the young red-haired seaman called Ori who gives out a shout of triumph after a rope together with a nasty Sea Orc falls on the deck below. You don’t recognize the other sailor. He wears a funny floppy-eared hat and pierces through an Orc with his cutlass, making the foul creature fall into the sea with a scream. 

And then you see Thorin grabbing one of the ropes, flying through the air and descending quickly towards the deck. It’s swarming with Orcs by now, but he lands on top of two of the enemies, overturning them in the process. While his loyal crew finishes them, the corsair captain unsheathes his legendary sword and starts his dance with Smaug’s minions, lunging, turning, dodging, delivering a decisive blow of his blade and then rushing towards the next enemy, and then the next, defeating the Sea Orcs one by one in a series of well-trained movements. You admire the efficiency of his attacks and the grace he moves with, reminding you of an underwater predator, when something grabs you by your neck and lifts you into the air.

“Ssssilver Ssssorceresss,” a repulsive Sea Orc stares at you with his one large eye. A dirty eye patch covers his other eye socket. His greenish face is contorted in an ugly smile and there is a spiked club in his left, meaty paw.

“Put me down at once,” you demand, trying to wiggle out of his painful grasp. 

“Massster wantsss you home,” he shakes his head and spits, demonstrating as many as three teeth in his mouth, all of them rotten. His pointy ears are pierced in a few places by animal bones and he gives out a smell of decaying seaweed and rotting fish.

“I’m not going anywhere!” you protest.

You don’t know what exactly the future holds for you, but there is one thing you are certain of. You are definitely not returning to Lord Smaug’s fortress. He’s not going to lay his filthy clutches on you. You take a swing with your leg and kick the Orc with all your strength, hitting his knee. He howls in pain, releases his grasp on you, and stumbles. Ah, well. You aimed at a much more vulnerable part of his disgusting body, but you’re not that picky. You’re free now, after all. And you don’t have a moment to lose. A quick look around is all you need. _There it is!_ A boat hook lies nearby, its tip as sharp as Bosun Gloin’s hook. You lunge towards this weapon and grab its long shaft.

The green-skinned Sea Orc straightens up and growls at you, clearly dissatisfied. He raises his club and swings at you, but you’re faster than him. You dodge his attack and retreat, putting some space between you. The Orc starts running towards you but this time you face him and throw the boat hook at him as if you were throwing a fishing spear back home. Your weapon hits the Orc straight in his chest and he falls on the deck with his arms thrown to the sides.

“What a throw! Have I really seen what I think I’ve seen, brother? A warrior of a lady?” you hear Mr. Dwalin’s astonished voice behind you. You turn towards him and see his battle companion standing next to him as well.

“Ah, for Mahal’s sake, do I look like a helpless dandelion to you, Mr. Dwalin?” you retort and you are rewarded with a chuckle coming from his companion.

“Not any more, m’lady” Dwalin admits sheepishly.

“And here we were, running to your rescue, my lady Silver Sorceress,” the older Dwarf makes a deep bow. “Sailing Master Balin, the First Officer of this fine ship, at your service!”

“A pleasure to meet you, Master Balin,” you bow in turn.

And then an explosion rips apart everything around you. You fall to the ground. A wave of acrid smoke hits you, stinging your eyes and painfully scorching your throat. Your ears are ringing. You try to get up but you are too dizzy. You fall back on the wooden planks of the deck, splinters prickling your skin. You close your eyes.

You are lifted from the deck. Warmth surrounds you. Like a cocoon. It’s pleasant. He is so close to you now. You cling to his firm, familiar chest, breathing in the smell of juniper. This is how safety smells like.

“Kili, Midshipman Baggins, take her to my cabin and guard her with your life!” you hear Captain Thorin’s voice through the ringing in your ears. You can feel the comforting rumbling in his chest against your skin as he speaks. 

“Right away, Uncle!” someone says. _Uncle?_ Who was that? Perhaps you heard wrong. Your hearing still suffers after the explosion. A pair of unknown arms supports you. You want to protest, but the reassuring warmth of Thorin’s body is already gone. There is darkness instead.

When you open your eyes again, you are on the bed in the captain’s quarters. Your body is shaking, you try to calm yourself down and fail. The hobbit ceaselessly paces through the cabin, back and forth, while the battle rages above you, deafening cannon shots are fired one by one, you hear yells and other terrifying noises coming from above, and the faint stench of smoke reaches you, and feel nauseated, and you bring your hand to your cheek, and there is blood on your fingers, and then the ship tilts on its starboard side, and you roll towards the edge of the bed. Something falls from the captain’s writing desk with a clank.

“Not good. Not good at all,” Midshipman Baggins jumps up, finding his balance, his button nose twitches, and you think it’s rather cute, and the whole hull seems to shake, and you hear more shouts and screams and cries and more thuds, and even more cannons are fired, and there is a moment of deadly silence. 

“Back in a jiffy,” the hobbit says, his face unnaturally pale, and he disappears. You are alone.

You look around the cabin. It looks like a mess, a chair on the floor, maps scattered everywhere, but there is no one else here. Wasn’t the warrior, Kili, with you as well? You haven’t seen him at all. He is gone too. Everyone is gone. You are alone.

Time passes, you try counting your terrified heartbeats but you can’t focus, the cannons are thundering again, more, much more of them, and the ship seems to tilt a bit more, and you look at your shaking hands, your broken nails, and there is blood and dirt underneath them, and you recall that Thorin is wounded, and you know what Smaug does to his defeated enemies, and the necklace is so cold against your skin. And you are still alone.

All of a sudden, the hobbit returns, his cheeks are pink, his eyes sparkle. Ori the sailor follows him, still holding his cutlass and whooping with joy.

“We are saved, my lady, do you hear me? We are saved!” the hobbit chants, making a small dance of victory in front of you together with the copper-haired sailor.

“What do you mean…?” your voice is raspy. Your throat hurts. Your eyes are wet. Your lips taste like salt. 

“ _The Mistress of the Night_ and _Kraken’s Fury_ are here, m’lady!” Ori exclaims.

Midshipman Baggins notices your blank stare and says, “These are the frigates under the command of Captain Dis and Captain Frerin!”

“Captain Dis… Lady Dis?” you ask. Your voice trembles slightly. 

He nods. 

“Yes, Lady Dis! Captain Thorin’s sister, my lady. And Captain Frerin, his brother, is here too." 

“With their help, our Captain gave Smaug a taste of Dwarfish iron right up his jacksie!” adds Ori with a grin. They both laugh. More words spill out of their mouth, wide grins on their faces, but you don’t listen to any of them any longer. Thorin is alive. Smaug is gone. You take a deep breath. The fluttering in your chest intensifies. 

_His sister_ , the hobbit said. _His sister_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is some visual help for this chapter:  
> [Lord Smaug's approaching warships](https://64.media.tumblr.com/c21a48a73606bd92a3d30c693fbbc780/tumblr_p4h85vJWGo1uzeyaxo1_1280.jpg) (author: Blake Rottinger)  
> [Lord Smaug's airship - The Air Serpent](https://cdna.artstation.com/p/assets/images/images/010/531/996/large/su-jian-asset.jpg?1524917834) (author: Su Jian)  
> [Battle at sea](https://64.media.tumblr.com/30c62a778501233b8029252c4d8ed2d4/tumblr_ouc2zjay6t1r7hnimo1_1280.jpg) (author unknown)  
> [Enemy aboard!](https://64.media.tumblr.com/5a67edc607e9cbb95aeab1673ba608ad/tumblr_p5zximPOF31uzeyaxo2_1280.jpg) (author: Philipp Scherer)
> 
> And now, I have a truly serious question for you. Okay, let’s make it two questions. 
> 
> 1\. Has Smaug truly been defeated once and for all?
> 
> 2\. What do you want to happen next?  
> A. A pirate’s life for me!  
> B. What about Bilbo and those tentacles? How about some sharks? And barracudas? And killer whales?  
> C. Listen, lathalea, I came here for romance. I demand more of it. Or else.  
> D. Captain Thorin ships off the Silver Sorceress to Ered Luin. He goes to reclaim Erebor, she continues creating breathtaking wonders. They never see each other again. The end.  
> E. No, no no. I have a better idea… (let me know, please!)
> 
> Oh, and while you’re at it, please remember to leave a comment or a “<3” if you liked the story so far! Thanks! :)


	6. The Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today is all about the joys of a pirate’s life, so I have a little game for you. I smuggled a tiny easter egg from another fandom into this chapter. The first person who finds it will have the chance to put themselves into the story! Yes, you’ll be able to tell me how you want to appear in the story as an OC (if you’re not comfortable with this, you can create your own OC instead).  
> Good luck!  
>   
> The fan art that goes with the current chapter was created by the wonderful **shrimpsthings**.  
> [See how Dis and Frerin look like here!](https://shrimpsthings.tumblr.com/post/631628192763035648/hi-guys-i-finaly-mad-the-color-for-lady-dis-i)  
> (And check out her tumblr while you’re at it!)  
>   
> And now… yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!

“This is Thorin’s Cove, my lady. A rustic hideout where a humble sailor can recuperate in peace, away from the storms of this world,” Captain Thorin speaks in that deliciously deep voice of his, gesturing at a pirate city bustling with life. You’ve just arrived at a secluded island somewhere on the uncharted seas of Arda.

“What the Captain is tryin’ to say, m’lady” Mister Dwalin winks at you, “is that you will never find a greater hive of scum and villainy!”

“I aim for the best,” the dashing corsair flashes a smile at you, his eyes bright with mirth. “I will not have it said that Captain Thorin’s secret hideout is merely a mediocre outpost! And now, allow me to properly introduce you to the place,” he adds with a small but nevertheless courteous bow.

Chuckling, you tuck your hand in the crook of his arm as he escorts you from the ship’s deck down to the shore. The wooden planks of the narrow gangway creak under your feet. 

Sun stands high in the air as you set your foot on the stable ground for the first time in days. The air smells of freshly caught fish, roasted nuts and tar used to seal the hulls of ships. The air is filled with the repeated “squawk-squawk-squawk” of the ever-hungry seagulls that are circling in the sky above you. Some sailors are merrily shouting nearby, and there is the constant clucking sound of water against wood. _The Willing Heart_ arrived at the port as the last of the three ships that won the battle against Lord Smaug. The damage she sustained was quite extensive so the ship had to be towed all the way to the famed Thorin’s Cove.

“What have you done this time, brother?!” you hear a loud female voice to your right. It belongs to a tall and broad-shouldered woman who approaches you swiftly, moving at a springy pace, a falchion by her side.

“My darling sister! Has anyone told you yet how exceptionally fierce you look today?” Captain Thorin turns to her with a mischievous glint in his eye.

As she stands in front of both of you, you can clearly see the family resemblance. Her dark, equally dark as Thorin’s hair is braided in uncountable braids, glistening with jeweled golden beads and gathered in a thick ponytail at the back of her head. You have seen the exact same blue shade of her eyes before in the captain’s face. The elegantly protruding cheekbones, plump, rosy lips and a narrow jawline covered with soft hair of her whiskers distinguish Dis from her brother as well as the large amount of jewellery she wears. Your skilled eye of a silversmith tells you these are no mere trinkets, but adornments worthy of a lady of the highest breeding.

“I’m about to look even fiercer if you don’t tell me what this was all about!” she points at his ship by the pier, still slightly tilted, with one of the masts shattered.

“A battle, sister dear. There was a battle, if you remember,” Thorin grins widely and you could swear he enjoys this little word fencing.

“Aye, and what a battle it was!” another person approaches from the left. The bright blue of his eyes, the distinguished profile of his nose and his dark curls gathered in three thick braids tell you that this Dwarf clad in colorful clothes has to be their brother. He’s not as tall as Thorin but he’s wider than him. As his eyes rest at you, he takes a deep, almost a theatrical bow, the golden beads in the braids of his beard tingle against each other.

“The sun pales in comparison with your dazzling beauty, my lady. Captain Frerin of _Kraken’s Fury_. My heart and I are at your eternal service!” he says with a roguish smile.

“My lady, I feel it my duty to warn you against my little brother’s silver tongue. He can sweet-talk a sea bass into jumping into a frying pan and afterwards the poor fish would thank him for the honor of becoming his meal,” Thorin covers your palm resting on his arm with his warm, strong hand. You enjoy the manner in which he touches you even if you can’t overlook the possessive undertones of his gesture. 

“And this is my valiant sister, Captain Dis of _Mistress of the Night_ ,” the dashing corsair continues and turns to his siblings. “I present to you the Silver Sorceress.”

Frerin’s eyes widen. Dis opens her mouth but doesn’t say a word.

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you,” you interrupt the silence. “I believe my thanks are in order for your assistance in battle. I’m afraid it is my fault that Lord Smaug decided to follow us in a rather foul mood.” 

“An honor, Lady Sorceress,” Dis stretches out her hand, grips yours firmly and shakes it in a sailor’s greeting. “Has my oldest brother been bothering you greatly?” she smiles jauntily and flashes a glance at Thorin.

“On the contrary, Captain Dis,” you assure her.

“Dis will suffice,” she interjects and you acknowledge her gesture with a nod. 

“And as for your brother, he has been an exemplary gentledwarf throughout our journey,” as soon as those words leave your mouth, Thorin gently squeezes your palm in appreciation, an unexpectedly bold move. Well, the handsome corsair has done many things since you met him, but the only bothersome thing you encountered was the exceptional weakness of your knees that seems to happen whenever he is around. Like now, for example. His sapphire eyes meet yours, darkened by a splash of emotion, and you can’t look away. To be honest, you don’t want to.

“Thorin,” Dis demands, “if Smaug attacked you, does that mean that you paid a visit to Erebor without us?” she furrows her brow.

Reluctantly, Thorin’s eyes leave your face, but his hand doesn’t leave yours.

“Two days before we were to meet, I was informed that most of Smaug’s fleet had left Erebor, leaving his garrison undermanned,” he speaks.

“By Mahal’s salty beard, you really went there!” Frerin adds in amusement. 

“Aye,” a half-smirk appears on Thorin’s face. “I couldn’t let the opportunity pass, could I?”

“What did you...” her eyes rest on you and then she gasps, noticing your necklace. “No… You didn’t…!”

Thorin’s smirk only widens.

“You sea goat!” exclaims Frerin. “You took the Arkenstone from him!” he laughs at the top of his lungs.

“I’m afraid I did,” the daring corsair replies and then he raises your hand to his mouth and presses a soft and intensely warm kiss on your knuckles. A rumbling murmur leaves his mouth as he gazes at you once again from under his half-closed eyelids, the twin sapphire seas of his gaze seduce you into their depths. “Along with his stunningly beautiful and valiant bride.”

***

“Many know it by its common name, ‘Heart of the Mountain’, but we, the Dwarves of Erebor, call it ‘the Arkenstone’. It is the greatest treasure of our people,” Sailing Master Balin explains to you over a tankard of ale and a hearty supper shared with most of _The Willing Heart’s_ crew in a local tavern. It’s a cozy, lively place filled with song and laughter.

“The one who holds the Arkenstone is the true King of the Island of Erebor. Only such a person has the right to unite all the Dwarven clans of the Seven Seas of Arda under their rule,” the white-bearded Dwarf continues.

A gasp escapes your mouth as you rest your fingers on your necklace, against the cold, smooth surface of the Heart of Stone.

“Does that mean I’m the Queen of Erebor now?” you ask.

“You would if you were a member of the line of Durin,” Master Balin smiles gently.

“Or if ye were married to one,” says one of the sailors with a twinkle in his hazel eye and a wide grin. He wears a floppy-eared hat and you can swear you have seen him somewhere before.

“The line of Durin… The rulers of Erebor,” you try to recall. You grew up far away from that legendary place and the fall of Erebor happened when you were but a little dwarfling. “Weren’t they all killed when Lord Smaug attacked the Lonely Island?”

“Not all of them. King Thror gave his life defending the island,” he speaks solemnly, the twinkle in his eyes gone. “His son, King Thrain, followed in his footsteps, fighting the Sea Orcs years later. I still remember that battle as if it happened yesterday. We were leaderless, defeat and death were upon us. That is when I saw him; the young dwarf prince facing Lord Smaug’s general, the Pale Orc. He stood alone against this terrible foe on the forecastle of his flagship, his falchion broken, wielding nothing but an oaken barrel head as a shield... The leader of Smaug’s forces learned that day that the line of Durin would not be so easily broken. Our forces rallied and drove the Sea Orcs into retreat; our enemy had been defeated... but there was no feast or songs that night, for our dead were beyond the count of grief. We few had survived and I thought to myself then 'There is one I could follow. There is one I could call King',” _The Willing Heart’s_ First Officer falls silent, lost in his own thoughts. You see the same look on several crew members' faces and you guess that they must have taken part in that memorable battle as well. Even the hazel-eyed Dwarf is not grinning any longer, clutching his unusual hat in his hands. Two dark, straight braids droop on both sides of his face, along with his curled up whiskers.

“So King Thrain had a son! Who is he?” you ask in surprise after a few moments of silence.

“You have met him already, my lady,” Master Balin replies. “Look behind you.”

And then you see him. He walks towards you. It is not a sedate step of a king, but a wide stride of a sailor. His freshly washed, damp raven hair falls on his shoulders in waves, several braids with silver beads among them. A small smile hides in the darkness of his beard. His strapping silhouette, clad in a dark blue tunic with a wide belt, leather trousers and heavy boots, approaches you with the grace of a sea lion. You admire the difference between the width of his shoulders and the tautness of his waist. There is a dormant, male power in his movements. Power equal to that of a king. He is simply… majestic. His intense gaze, blue as the ocean waves on a sunny day, rests on you and you feel like a heedless fish caught in a fisherman’s net, unable to look away. The stubborn fluttering in your chest doesn’t want to stop.

Thorin’s smile widens as he says in a low, husky voice, “Are they boring you with their constant bragging, my lady?”

“On the contrary, Captain Thorin. I have heard quite a few amazing stories from your brilliant crew, including the one with a stolen monkey,” you stifle a chuckle.

“He wasn’t stolen! Alfrid came to me of his own free will,” Dis protests from the direction of the bar. “He’s my ships’ lucky charm!

“You bribed him with a ton of dates,” states Thorin. “Now he is a very round lucky charm, I am afraid.”

“Round or not, he still brings me luck! We were this close to getting rammed by that blasted Smaug’s ship!” she grins widely, flashing her white teeth, one of them glinting with gold.

“We would all be sleeping with the fishes if not for my windlance!” Frerin exclaims proudly. “I told you it would come in handy one day!”

“You and your toys,” Thorin chuckles as he approaches him and rests his hands on his brother’s shoulders. Frerin mirrors his gesture. 

“What a splendid aim, Frerin!” the corsair captain says. “You hit that airship with your first shot. Smaug is probably on the bottom of the sea now!” They look into each other's eyes, slam their foreheads together and burst out in loud laughter.

“A round of drinks for everyone!” Dis shouts at the top of her lungs and approaches your table with six tankards of ale in her hands. Cheers and approving shouts fill the tavern.

“May I have the honor of sitting beside you, my lady?” Frerin says and you think you hear a subdued growl reverberating in Thorin’s chest. You agree with a nod, not being able to conceal a small smile.

“Captain, the craftsmen are here,” a grey-haired sailor, his head adorned with elaborate braids, turns to Captain Thorin. 

“You must excuse me, my lady,” The corsair takes a quick look at you and slightly bows his head. “Quartermaster Dori, get me our Master Shipwright Bofur and let us all talk.”

They sit down in one of the adjacent alcoves, joined by several other Dwarves. The Master Shipwright turns out to be none other than the cheerful Dwarf in an unusual hat. He winks at you and smiles as he leaves your table, jumping over several benches that get in his way.

Captain Frerin draws your attention to himself and his sister, sharing with you the most amazing tales of the sea along with their adventures, and that includes their customary lighthearted sibling bickering. He’s very attentive and courteous and a broad smile doesn’t leave his handsome face. It isn’t difficult to notice the look of admiration in his eyes.

Soon, everyone at the table is laughing, the sailors adding their own improbable but hilarious details to each story, and the ale is pleasantly humming in your head. You enjoy yourself greatly, giggling when you try to imagine how the Master-at-arms himself, Dwalin, looked like dressed as the Queen of Mermaids on the occasion of Ori’s sailor’s baptism during the young Dwarf’s first sea voyage.

“And who played the role of the King of the Seas?” you ask curiously.

“Why, me, of course!” Dis admits. “It was a memorable ceremony. Sailor Ori did well! He had to eat a fermented shark’s fin and then he vomited only once!” she roars with laughter and slams her hand on the young Dwarf’s back in appreciation. He stifles a cough and reddens like a ripe tomato, casting a shy glance at you. When you smile at him, he reddens even more.

“And from what they say,” Dis continues, “his brother Dori was sick as a dog for a week after his sailor’s ceremony!” 

“He says it wasn’t the fin, it was Bombur’s cooking!” adds Ori and this piece of information starts a new wave of laughter.

“Alright, lads, uncle Bofur has returned!” bellows the Master Shipwright. “Let the party begin!”

All the sailors gathered in the tavern give out a yell of approval as Bofur jumps on top of the nearest table and starts singing a familiar song that you recall from your childhood. 

_There is an inn, a merry old inn_ _  
_ _beneath an old grey hill,_ _  
_ _And there they brew a beer so brown_ _  
_ _That the Man in the Moon himself came down_ _  
_ _One night to drink his fill._

Some Dwarves join in the singing, others accompany by stomping their feet on the ground. When the song ends, the tavern is flooded with cheers and wild applause. Bofur takes off his hat and bows deeply. He grabs a full tankard of ale, gulps it down in one go and then jumps down to the floor. Soon, a group of sailors starts playing a merry tune on their instruments and some start dancing.

“May I have the honor of the first dance, Silver Sorceress?” you recognize the rumbling voice beside you. Captain Thorin stands by your table with an outstretched hand, a half-smile dancing in the corner of his lips. That is when you suddenly recall their softness against your skin. And then you hear a dissatisfied groan coming from Frerin’s mouth.

“Forgive me, my lady, I wasn’t fast enough,” Frerin casts a sharp glance at his brother. “May I ask you for the second dance, my lady?”

You chuckle in response and nod, resting your palm on Thorin’s hand, feeling its coarse warmth against your skin. In a blink of an eye, you are swooped into his strong arms. When you both start circling the tavern floor, he holds you firmly but gently, anticipating your every move and accommodating for it. A tiny part of your mind registers that he is a skilled and nimble dancer, his moves even more fluid than when he fights with his sword in hand. All those observations disappear in the back of your mind as you’re more and more aware of his intense closeness, his sapphire eyes that never leave your face, his smile, the dark mane of hair that swirls behind him with each turn. Your heart starts beating faster when he places his hand on the small of your back and gently pulls you closer to him. You can feel the unbelievable warmth of his body through the fabric of your pale blue dress. His wide chest brushes against you as you move with the music. Breathe, you remind yourself. You have to breathe. Your nostrils are filled with the scent of juniper, exotic spices and fresh soap. So masculine. So… Thorin. This is not a casual dance any longer. You’re floating among the clouds of music; the clouds of joy and hope, and he is there with you, holding you steadily in his arms, not letting go, swirling around with an easy grace. His hand is clasped with yours in a scandalous manner, palm to palm, your fingers intertwined, and he lowers his face towards you, you can see the soft curve of his lips, his strong, bearded jaw, and you wonder how it would feel to place a kiss on his cheek just above it. A blush blooms on your face at this thought; and then his mouth moves to the side of your face. You feel the warmth of his breath on your ear as he murmurs in an alluring manner and once again your knees try to buckle under you.

“Will you join me, my lady, on the terrace?” he asks and then he gazes into your eyes. There is a glint in them, but you can’t decipher its meaning.

“I promised my second dance to Captain Frerin,” you remind him, glancing at his brother who is currently busy twirling a very pretty Dwarven lady around the dance floor.

“He seems quite busy at the moment. What a shame,” Thorin speaks solemnly but you recognize his mischievous look. “I believe he would have to settle for the third dance. Or perhaps the fourth one…” he muses, leading you towards the terrace. You chuckle, amused by their rivalry.

The terrace of the tavern is not a very large one but it offers a magnificent view of the bay below. Uncountable lanterns of the pirate city light up the night and there is a crescent moon hanging in the black velvet of the sky above, painting the waves of the sea with a faint silver sheen. Fresh sea air fills your lungs and you direct your attention to Thorin, noticing that he still holds your hand, and what’s more, that he has just covered it with his other palm. Something flutters in your chest as you study his face, his gaze set on the horizon when the endless sky meets the boundless sea in darkness, like two lovers who will be parted at dawn by the cruel sun only to return into each other’s arms at dusk.

The moonlight leaves a soft glow on Thorin’s handsome profile, accentuating the silver sparks in his eyes, the bold line of his nose and the curve of his mouth underneath it. Even his beard seems to be adorned by the silver light. This is when you recognize the intricately adorned ear cuff on his earlobe with three sapphires set in silver. You know the pattern by heart. It was created by your very own hands. It is one of your early creations and your experienced eyes notice the little flaws in the design, but a new, curious feeling uncoils inside you when it dawns on you. Thorin must have been wearing it for years. You clearly remember the day when a mysterious Dwarf commissioned this work. He wouldn’t give you his name, but there was a tattoo on his forehead and he was missing one eye. The wrinkles on his face and his ash grey hair were a clear sign of his respectable age. Back then, you were surprised at his noble, almost regal bearing even though his clothes were quite worn. He paid you with a pouch of sapphires of the first water, the most stunning ones you’ve ever seen. You used three of them to make this ear cuff.

“I remember your father. He was very kind to me,” you say.

Thorin’s puzzled glance rests on your face as you point to his ear cuff. He touches it with his fingers. You sigh inwardly when a cool breeze kisses the skin on your palm, banishing the lingering warmth of his skin against yours.

“I could not have asked for a better father,” he murmurs.

“He loved you greatly. I could see it in his eyes. He would come to my workshop when I worked on this cuff and tell me stories of his firstborn son and his two younger offspring. There was such pride in his voice…” you trail off.

Thorin gazes at the horizon as his hand covers yours again, “It was the last gift I received from him. The mark of the heir...” he interrupts and quickly clears his throat. “Old times. That was the first time I heard of you, Silver Sorceress. Who would have known I would meet you in person one day,” a faint smile creeps up his lips as he straightens his back, his previous melancholy gone without a trace. “Until recently, I could only admire you from afar, through your works.”

“I can only imagine that you were able to admire quite a few of my works from up close, Captain. The Elven King of Greenwood is still waiting for that necklace of white gems he ordered for his beloved wife. And I received a royal missive from the King of Esgaroth inquiring after the whereabouts of his new crown. It should have arrived to him months ago,” you muse innocently.

“You wound me with your words, my lady!” he protests but you can see the twinkle in his eyes. “I do not have any knowledge about the current whereabouts of these treasures!”

“You do not?”

“Not at all, my lady,” he grins, and adds after a pause, “You’d have to ask Balin.”

“Your first officer?!” you can’t believe your ears. Is it even possible? Such a respectable, elderly Dwarf?!

“He and Bosun Gloin are very efficient when it comes to appraising and, shall we say, monetizing the goods,” he smiles widely. “Do not look so shocked, my lady. Surely, you understand that we, humble sailors, have to eat!”

Captain Thorin, currently an embodiment of saint innocence, tilts his head playfully and you can’t help but chuckle. You continue the conversation in a similar style for a while when your thoughts trail off to yet another treasure around your neck and to the recent tumultuous events. The not-so-innocent corsair changes the subject, seeing that your eyes are observing the sea.

“Do not worry, my lady, Smaug’s troops will not find you here. This island can not be found on any map,” he pats your hand reassuringly.

“Can your ship be repaired?” you try to make out the contours of his damaged ship in the port below you, but it’s too dark to see anything clearly.

“My shipwright reassures me that it can and will be done quite soon. Your voyage to the Ered Luin Islands will be delayed, I’m afraid, but you will reach your destination as soon as possible, safe and sound. You have my word,” he lifts your hand to his lips and kisses it. He doesn’t brush his lips against your skin this time; he presses them fervently into your skin, his eyes darkening with a sudden tide of fiery emotion that seems to spread throughout your body as well.

You take a deep breath.

“Captain Thorin, I believe the time has come to discuss the advance you requested for your services,” you state matter-of-factly.

“Has it?” he raises one of his brows. And that glint in his eye is there again. And that small, alluring smile. How can one person be so devilishly handsome?

You nod slowly. He takes a step towards you. You bite on your lower lip. His lips part slightly. You raise your head towards him. He places your hand on his chest, just above his heart. _Oh, Mahal, his firm chest_. Your other hand wanders to his jaw. He hums approvingly. You feel the soft pricking of his beard against your palm. His face is so close. So very close. And then you stand on your tiptoes, and look up, meeting his darkening gaze.

“It has. Let us discuss the details,” you offer, brushing your lips against his.

First, a rumble escapes his chest. Then he ardently presses his lips against yours. It is enough to make your blood rush through your veins. His whiskers graze against your skin and you savor this new sensation. The strong feeling of euphoria envelops you. _Mahal, his wondrous lips._ You respond to his kiss instinctively, passionately. He tastes like sweet summer wine, like roasted nuts and wild honey. Like lust for life. Like the only man who makes your heart beat faster, who knows how to kindle the fire in your heart. The intensity of that moment is unlike anything you’ve experienced before. Everything becomes intertwined, like an eclectic mosaic of sensations; you revel in his touch, become inebriated with his scent, exchange sensual caresses; you float among the clouds when he cups your face with his hand, deepening the kiss, and then…

“Captain Thorin! Captain Thorin!” a shout interrupts your bliss.

“What is it, Midshipman Baggins?” the corsair growls hotly as his lips leave yours. You rest your forehead against his chest, taking in deep breaths, letting the scent of juniper envelop you completely.

“I… I beg your pardon, Captain, I didn’t know you were, ermm… engaged,” the hobbit mumbles. “I’ll go now.”

Still refusing to open your eyes, relishing the kiss, you hear the shuffling of his furry feet against the wooden floor.

“I require an answer, Midshipman,” Thorin, the Dwarf who has just kissed you senseless, growls, but his hand rests gently on your back.

“T-there was a… a t-thing with the t-timber for the repairs… B-but it can wait until tomorrow!” the young hobbit squeaks and quickly disappears back in the tavern.

Thorin’s chest slowly rises and falls. When he speaks, you hear his soft rumble again, the tone of voice intended only for your ears.

“Now, where were we, my lady?”

“I was about to thank you for opposing Lord Smaug and transporting me safely to this place,” you lift your face and bury your hands in his sable mane. His arms encircle your waist, pressing you closely against his strapping body; his eyes burn their way straight to your heart. Your treacherous knees give way under you but Thorin holds you firmly against him.

“There is nothing that I desire more at this very moment than a gesture of thanks from the Silver Sorceress,” he murmurs into your lips, his nose brushing against the skin of your cheek, his long hair shutting you off from the entire world, flowing around you like a curtain. And then, there is only you and him, his lips and yours, caressing, grazing, enveloping, dancing with each other in an ancient dance of passion, conveying secret meanings only the two of you understand.

***

“Sweet dreams, my lady,” he murmurs alluringly when you say your farewells by the door to your room.

The dreams that come to you that night are indeed as sweet as wild honey and… as his kisses.  
  


***

Lord Smaug hisses in disapproval. His personal physician changes the dressing on the wound in his side, one of the mementoes the cursed Captain Thorin was unkind enough to leave him with after the fateful battle. Some of the bandages are spattered with his green-tinted blood.

“Forgive me, my lord,” the servant bows in fright. “The wound is festering and…”

“Get out of my sight!” the haughty lord slams his fist on the arm of the opulent chair he is sitting on. He observes with pleasure how the incompetent fool cowers away from him. A flogging would do him very well, he decides, drumming his clawed nails against the wooden surface of the armrest.

“General Azog!” Lord Smaug decides to summon the commander of his army. 

The albino Sea Orc appears in front of him, saluting his master. He wears the black-and-gold uniform of Lord Smaug’s forces. An emblem depicting a red dragon adorns his chest, a clear symbol of his loyalty. The lord gives out an approving hiss. General Azog has been serving him well, crushing his enemies with unmatched fierceness. The Orc’s powerful body bears the proof of the many years in his service: his pale face bears ritual scars of a warrior, a black eyepatch runs across it (Lord Smaug recalls that Azog lost his eye in a battle with the Mer-Elves), and half of his left arm is missing, replaced by a trident made of black iron.  
  
“What is the status of _The Air Serpent_?” the lord asks coldly.

“The engineers need five weeks to repair the damage,” the Sea Orc growls back, standing at attention before his master.

“It has to be operational in one week!” Lord Smaug snarls. He doesn’t have the luxury of time, he needs to strike back and reclaim his treasures before the pathetic corsair’s puny ship is restored after the battle.

“They requested more time, Master. The damage is too extensive,” the Sea Orc has the audacity to say.

Fuming with rage, Lord Smaug stands up, ignoring the dull pain in his side. His richly ornamented cloak, red as the blood of the innocents he spilled, flows down from his shoulders.

“I want Captain Thorin on the bottom of the sea, and I want it now!” he bellows.

“There is one who can carry out your orders, Master,” an ugly smirk appears on the Pale Orc’s lips, uncovering his uneven teeth.

Lord Smaug pauses for a moment to ponder. Indeed. Truth be told, he had slightly different plans for his _Pet_ , but in the present circumstances, _he_ will do. It will be a formidable test of _his_ possibilities. _He_ will be more than enough to crush the insolent corsair. Captain Thorin will meet his grandfather’s fate and he, Smaug the Magnificent, will reclaim both his greatest treasure and his reluctant bride once and for all.

“Indeed, General Azog,” he says slowly, savoring his own words. “The time has finally come. **RELEASE THE KRAKEN!** ”

The walls of Lord Smaug’s throne room echo with his ominous laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you for your kudos snd very inspiring comments, you helped me a whole lot! Now I know where you’d like the whole story to go and I’ll try to do my best :)  
>   
> If you’d like to chat about the story, you can find me on tumblr: [lathalea.tumblr.com](https://lathalea.tumblr.com)  
>   
> And here’s some visual help for this chapter:  
> * [Thorin’s Cove](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/1b/99/eb/1b99ebc06ca9f7352eac51f37c9b2a9f.jpg) (author unknown)  
> * [Thorin approaching you in the tavern](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/0a/ae/cc/0aaecc44429848cb2f970a3fd9d94275.jpg) (uncredited)  
> * [The tavern](https://cdna.artstation.com/p/assets/images/images/010/166/684/large/tomasz-ryger-faza6b.jpg) (author: Tomasz Ryger)  
>   
> Don’t forget to leave a comment and:  
> \- write your reply for our little game (first come first served!),  
> \- tell me what you’d like to happen in the next chapter.  
>   
> Thanks! xxx


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